Run: 2026-07-07-01KWZ58D6Q1PD03YKBVN9ZWT6D

Molly crouched behind the bushes, watching the bounce house inflate like some technicolor monstrosity devouring the lawn. She pressed the earpiece deeper into her canal. "Bill, do you copy?" "Copy what?" His voice crackled through. "Do you copy? As in, do you hear me?" "I hear you fine. I just don't understand why we're doing this." She exhaled slowly. "We're doing this because Timmy Henderson's parents are worth forty million, and that pile of presents by the piñata is probably worth a new car." "It's a child's birthday party, Molly." "It's an opportunity, Bill. Now, is the ice cream truck in position?" "The ice cream truck is in position. But I want to state for the record that I feel terrible about this." "Noted. Now, when I give the signal, you start playing that music. The creepy one." "Which creepy one? I have three." "The one that sounds like a music box from a horror movie. It'll make all the parents uncomfortable and they'll leave early." "What if they don't leave?" "Then we improvise. That's what criminals do, Bill. We improvise." She watched a child drop a juice box, and felt something that might have been guilt.